I remember seeing blood.” I heard my voice cracking.
“I don’t know what to think,” he said. He sat slumped, as if exhausted. “You’ve been healthy for so long, and now this. I just don’t understand it.”
He would be far more terrified if he knew how many times I’d experienced gaps in my memory since we’d been in Indochine. My mind had felt unsteady almost since we’d arrived.
“I’m the one who’s scared,” I said, closing my eyes. I willed my brain to remember the events at Khoi’s house. Attacking that woman, who in fact was not bleeding or half naked, according to Victor. Yet I knew what I’d seen.
I had a strong recollection of eating dinner at a massive, dark red lacquered table and talking to someone about bird’s nest soup. Another Annamite woman, perhaps, but not Binh. I remembered the taste of the soup, like seawater. The slippery texture. How the liquid seemed to coat my tongue even after I’d swallowed it. Someone near me had explained that it took over a month to make that soup and that it included bird droppings as well as saliva. That I hadn’t forgotten. And I could picture the large house illuminated like a palace floating in the countryside. But nothing was as vibrant as my conversation with Binh.
Past that, I had very little memory of coming home, or of the nightmares Victor claimed I’d had. I’d woken up four hours ago as my stomach lurched violently. I blamed the alcohol and the exotic soup. Victor blamed my mind.
My stomach was still in knots, and my skin was hot and prickling as Victor spoke. I picked at my itching hand, willing the skin to just fall off.
“I want to fix you, Jessie,” he said, his usually impeccably coiffed hair falling in his face, his blue eyes looking lighter than usual, as if my behavior was causing his blood to drain. “I do not want you to suffer the same fate as others,” he said. He meant his father. “But I don’t know what to do.”
“I’m sure I’ll feel better soon,” I said, trying to find some optimism.
“No,” Victor said, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, but there’s now a doctor downstairs to see you—”
“Victor, no!” I said, the tears immediately welling up in my eyes. “You know I—”
“I’ve waited hours to call her here,” he said loudly. “She’s been ready to see you since early this morning, but I wanted you calm before she did. This feels like the right time.”
“I’m certainly not calm now!” I shouted back. I could not see a doctor. I knew what kind of doctor Victor had called. She would want to do a lot more than check my pulse and have me swallow an aspirin.
I sat up quickly and felt so light-headed that I had to lie down again. “I will not see her, Victor,” I said.
“Look at you!” Victor said. “You’re sick. You’re very sick. I wanted to rush you to the hospital when we left the party, but I knew that might send you over the edge.”
“No hospitals,” I said, feeling my hands trembling. I balled them into fists to make it stop. “Never again.”
When we had arrived in Hanoi, the French authorities had given us a list of French schools, French government offices, French hospitals. The first three on the list of hospitals were the Clinique Saint-Paul for pregnant women, the Hospice de Thai-Ha-Ap for incurables, and the asylum for the insane in Voi. The last was conveniently located just forty miles outside Hanoi, the pamphlet touted.
Victor walked over to the bed and reached for my hand, but I pushed him off. “I will crawl out of this room on my hands and knees if I don’t have the energy to stand, but I will not see your doctor.”
“Don’t be like this, Jessie, please. See this woman. You need help. Let her help you in the comfort of your own home instead of in—”
“Instead of where? An asylum?” I shouted, a wave of anxiety crashing over me. I put my head in my hands and closed my eyes again.
“Instead of in her clinic,” Victor replied quietly. He rang the bell for Trieu, who came quickly to the door.
“Yes, Monsieur Lesage?” she said as she pushed it open.
“Please bring the doctor up now, Trieu,” Victor said with authority.
“I will jump off the balcony, Victor!” I shouted. I sprang out of bed, although barely able to stay upright, and made for the door that led outside. I